Chapter 2

Nothing could match the intensity of what we did that Monday afternoon – and evening – and night – and early morning – and Tuesday morning. Well, no one could keep that going for very long. We didn't try. Twenty-four hours straight with only room service in between naps couldn't last forever.

About 2:00 on Tuesday afternoon, I was looking at her obvious nudity stretched out on the bed. "I can't have you like this," I said.

"What's that, Johnny?"

"Naked. Can't have you naked ... I intend to take you up to see my mother. While she won't care if you don't have any clothes on, the others in the home would be scandalized."

"Meet your mother? Aren't ya jumping the gun a wee bit? We've just met."

"Nope. I want you to come because I don't want to be out of your presence for a moment. She won't care at all. I hate to say it, but it's like visiting a dog. She'll be happy to see you and me, too, for all that. But she won't remember either of us for five minutes once we're out of sight."

Kate considered. "All right. Let's get dressed. I've got some things in my room that are somewhat appropriate."

"No," I said.

"No?"

"I already told you – way back before you spoiled me for other women – you won't ever wear that bra, or anything like it, and you won't wear panties like those either." I tried on an imitation Irish brogue: "Yer gonna have ta get some new underthings, lassie."

She laughed. "That's terrible. Worst Irishman I've ever heard. Just terrible ... But ok. Where shall we shop?"

"There's a Fredericks of Hollywood just across the street."

"But they have scandalous things in there."

"Mmmh Hmmm," I replied with a smile.

"Only for undergarments. I won't wear their idea of clothes. I couldn't."

"Even for Pirate John?"

"Not for a pirate I've just met. If we're still seeing each other in six months, ask me again."

"If?" I said astonished. "IF??" I looked at her...

We wound up getting several sexy bras and some boy-cut briefs. Just for my amusement – she said she'd never wear them for anyone else – we got two pair of thong underwear. And shoes. I insisted that she buy the highest heels that she could tolerate. They made her already fabulous legs look even better.

We passed the rest of the afternoon and evening modeling her new underwear and fucking like crazed weasels. I introduced her to anal sex sometime that night. She liked it much better in the face-to-face position, with her legs draped over my shoulders. I couldn't object.

The next day we drove up to Greenwich, Connecticut, to visit my mother. I drove a rental car. She drove, too: she drove me crazy. She wore a short, flippy little brown skirt with her gold thong. She made sure I got a good look at the front portion of the thong, too, but wouldn't let me touch. "'Tis a safety violation, ya see?" she said.

I offered to pull over to the side of the highway and we'd have another kind of violation, but she just laughed and ordered me to keep driving. When we got to the facility, my mother was pleased to see us both – as expected. Mom waited for me to introduce myself, and then told me that she was so happy that I'd brought Andrea as well.

Andrea was the bitch who dumped me for the Oakland Raiders lineman with the big cock. She looked nothing like Katherine, but ... well, mom was dealing from a short deck, these days. Kate took it well, just smiled, and said it was nice to see her, too.

We sat around and listened to some old Sinatra and Doris Day and the Gershwin song book for several hours. It was a nice quiet day. We got to meet some of her fellow inmates. Finally, late in the afternoon, we had to leave.

"Next time, bring the kids," said mom.

What kids? I was an only child. Did she have another son I didn't know about? I just nodded and said goodbye.

Kate showed me her gold thong on the way back to The Plaza. When we got there, I wanted to fuck like minks. She only wanted to fuck like a cat in heat. We compromised on pirates and slave girls.

Thursday, we managed to catch the Picassos at MOMA, and I managed to catch Kate in the ladies room. We didn't have time to take off our clothes, so I turned her around and lifted the strip of dental floss that was the back of the thong. To put it properly, I sodomized her quite effectively, that afternoon. She said it left her 'squishy' and she walked funny the rest of the day.

Then we got back to the hotel and made love, slowly and softly with a lot of meaningful looks in the eye.

Friday was our last day together. I wanted to make it memorable. She opted for maudlin. But every time she would get down at the thought that we had only 24 more hours together I'd kiss her, or suckle her breasts or bounce her on my flagpole. She got that way at 22 hours left too. Again then at 19 ½ hours. And so on. Each time I administered Dr. John's love potion as a remedy. At midnight, I had to give her a little spanking before eating her cunt to her ever-loving distraction.

Saturday morning she dressed like a Baroness again ... but at least she was wearing sexier underwear! No thong though. She got on the flight to London with connections to Liechtenstein. I had commitments in SilValley to tend to, so I went the other way. I never did make it to Kentucky to see if the next Secretariat was available. I had more fun with the European filly I found.

I emailed her every day for the next week, getting only the briefest and most polite replies. That was disappointing. I'd thought we had something special. Eventually I gave up on her.

Half way through the next week, I got a text message.

-- Arriving JFK 2pm Sunday next. Hope you can be there. K

It arrived in the middle of my backswing on the 4^th hole. I was playing a $100 Nassau (that's a kind of golf bet) with the president of what used to be the B&N Railroad, who'd arabesqued to a position on the board of the survivor railroad. That's BNSF in modern terms – stands for Burlington Northern Santa Fe. It was formed when ... never mind, the number of mergers in the railroad business in the last half of the 20^th century boggle the mind. The two young ladies who were paired with us were seriously good golfers from the San Jose State golf team. The club pro assigned them to us to make a foursome – and, I think, because I was a good customer of his and he thought I'd like the eye candy. I did appreciate it. I wouldn't play them for money, they played scratch golf, and I was about a 10 handicap ... I'd rather make a direct donation to the scholarship fund. It's easier on the ego.

I stopped in mid-swing, got out my cell, checked the message, then went back to golf. This was an important client. I texted back after the round, and I paid off my bet. Always lose to an important client.

-- Jack Sparrow couldn't keep me away. J

See, Jack Sparrow was the main character in 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and ... well if ya gotta explain it, don't bother. They probably had heard of Jack Sparrow in Liechtenstein.

I hastily rearranged my schedule to be in New York City on Sunday and for the following week. I reserved a suite at The Plaza again, but I think we could have made it with anywhere that had a bed. It was heaven again. This time we fucked like animals – unlike the previous time. (!!)

I was seriously in lust.

In bed, between rutting, we told each other our stories in greater detail. My childhood, my partial college experience, getting married and writing the program that made my money. Then finding out about Andrea's long term affair with Mr. Big Cock. Actually, it turned out that she was more married to him and I was something she had on the side. But of course, I provided the money.

She told about poverty in Northern Ireland and a harsh life on a farm. How her father had met the Baron when the latter was touring Ireland. And the strange arranged marriage at the age of 14. She thought she was setting off for some fancy boarding school. Until the first night in the Baron's old home: 'Come to me, my dear. We'll have some fun.' The marriage within a year. How she had gotten a fine education from the best tutors in Liechtenstein. What she'd done with a man 54 years her senior. She didn't have to go in much detail – I was the recipient of her post graduate education in fellatio. I knew.

We both ran out of story at the same point: three weeks ago when we met due to a revolving door accident.

I told her that I was still forced to go back to the West Coast at least every other week. I just couldn't steal more time than that. At least for another five or six years.

She told me that she had to be in Europe, mostly in Liechtenstein, for business reasons – but also to look after an old family retainer. Marta Rehoven had been with the Baron for decades and was now infirm. Kate simply could not turn her out and disappear into an American lovenest.

And so it began. Every other week, we'd be in New York City. Fucking at first. Learning how to love and make love as time went by. I was still in lust, but it was turning into more, now.

I bought a loft in SOHO – South of Houston St. (in New York, they pronounce it 'How-ston' – go figure) in the Greenwich Village (which they didn't pronounce 'Green-witch' strangely enough, but used the English pronunciation: 'Gren-ich') portion of Manhattan. It was a nice space that we furnished together. Well ... I provided the bed and the kitchen appliances. She added everything else, as we went along.

Time passed. A month. Six months. A year. I didn't ask about Liechtenstein. She didn't ask about California. It was like we were living in a fairy-tale. We'd meet at the airport every two weeks, spend a glorious time enjoying each other, and part at the airport on Saturday morning. We even had sex together! Who'd have thought?

On the anniversary of the revolving door incident we had a quiet dinner that we cooked ourselves. Linguine, Alfredo sauce, asparagus, salad, crusty bread from the local bakery. Simple.

"We have to talk, John." The four most dangerous words in the English language.